


Shot to the Heart

by AvengingDetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, Gay, Good God, I Tried, I love it when he does that, John Watson Plays Rugby, Johnlock Roulette, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Fanwork, One Shot, Please Don't Kill Me, Teenage Sherlock, Teenagers, Teenlock, hope you like it, how can you be so in love, lasertag, teenage John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengingDetective/pseuds/AvengingDetective
Summary: John takes Sherlock to laser tag with the rugby-team. You will see how it goes ;)





	Shot to the Heart

*for Felicitas <3

"Fuck, my foot fell asleep again!" Sherlock cursed, shaking his numb gone leg. "If you sat straight like a normal person for once in your life, it might not happen to you every 10 minutes," a blonde boy laughed, grinning cheekily up into blue-green-grey eyes.

"I do, in fact, sit normally. It's just these useless nerve strings!" he grumbled back.

Trying not to laugh at his ridiculous friend, John said, "Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason. Not the fact that you're currently sitting on your left leg, whilst your other one is in a position I can't even describe. No. Definitely not your own fault."

Not a split second later, John was met with a death glare. "Are you really teasing me now? Now, when I am receiving insufferable pain?!" "What kind of a question is this, yes, of course, I'm teasing you, you brave little fighter," he laughed.

"So, have you already heard the latest gossip?" John casually tried to keep the conversation going.

"If you mean Anderson sleeping with Donovan, then yes, I did."

"Why do I have this feeling that you had something to do with the revealing of their affair?" John smirked.

"Well," Sherlock answered, "it was quite obvious, there were several signs indicating the attraction between them, I merely pointed them out."

Trying to hide his proud grin, Sherlock absently propped his head on his knee. John noticed, that, although the boy in front of him was doing his very best to distract him from it, something was off.

"Hey, erm.. did something else happen?", he tried to ask nonchalantly. The fast up-jolting of Sherlock's head was more than enough for an answer.

"Nothing, what makes you think that something happened?"

"Because I do. So tell me already," John uttered impatiently. "Come on, show me the other side of your face."

"Ugh John, this is ridiculous," the taller boy complained.

"If it's so ridiculous, then just show me!"

Sherlock knew that he would never have a chance against John, especially now when he has switched into 'Captain mode', so he slowly turned his head around and looked John straight in the eye. Now the soon-to-be doctor was able to see a blue bruise forming across the other boy's sharp cheekbones.

Suddenly John had to concentrate very very hard on not starting to growl and get up, sprint right to Anderson, that sick son of a bitch, and punch him right across the face as well. But no. No. Sherlock was his friend. Not his lover or boyfriend or partner or whatever. Only his friend and this social position doesn't give someone the right to start a fight afterwards. So he tried to hide his angry mood and asked silently, "Why exactly did he do this to you? Are you sure that it wasn't your fault?"

"Yes, of course, I am sure. I didn't do anything!"

"Sherlock, I'm serious. What did you say to make him punch you?"

Sherlock looked out of the window again and began to silently say, "I swear, John. I only said, that their hookup was evident."

"Don't you know that Anderson has a girlfriend? Well.. had I guess."

"Sure, but that is really not my problem. If Anderson thinks affection and sex can bring him to his goals than he has to accept the truth being said out loud."

Without even thinking John replied angrily, "How can you still be so blind when it comes to human reactions? Was it not clear to you, that Anderson might not want to break things up with Mary? Maybe it was just a one-night stand. Imagine Anderson still liking Mary-"

Oof, John thought. That was definitely not supposed to escape from his mouth. But if he was being honest, he actually meant it. Sherlock, as brilliant as he is in everything having to do with science, is still unable to have a normal conversation.

John meant to say something to Sherlock for quite some time and now it has slipped out. Noticing Sherlock putting up his mask again, to hide his sad emotions, he knew why he was afraid to talk to Sherlock about maybe making some other friends.

He always wanted the curly haired boy to come to his rugby practice or stay after his matches, come with him to the pup afterwards. Any opportunity to let his other friends get to know this amazing boy. He'd invited him plenty of times and got nothing but some crappy excuses.

Looking back into his chemistry book, Sherlock grumbled something unintelligible and tried to ignore John for the better part of the next few minutes.

"Sorry... didn't mean it like that. It's just... you destroyed something Phillip was really proud of. Sure, it was a mistake to cheat on Mary, but I'm sure they'd have managed. This may sound rude now, but have you ever thought about making some more friends? Everybody should have more than one mate and you'd learn something about human emotions, consider it as some sort of social experiment."

This didn't sound so therapeutically in his own head either, damn it, Watson!

Still not looking up, Sherlock tried to hide behind his book, pretending to read. After some rather awkward silence, Sherlock spoke up, his voice cold as ice, "John, as you so well stated; I don't have anyone but you and it's fine with me. I don't need someone else."

Noticing that he's reached a dangerous area, John tried to calm him down, "Of course I know, but I don't think I'll ever understand why you don't try to speak to others. You're the most amazing person I've ever met and I can promise you that they'd like you."

Blushing at being called amazing, Sherlock sighs and doesn't answer. Not because he still tried to punish him with being ignored, but simply because he didn't know what to say.

He knows he should try to make other friends. For his own sake. John won't stay at his side forever. He still doesn't get why brilliant, always smiling, protecting, gorgeous looking, rugby playing, very

well-liked John is still with him, spending every single one of his breaks with the unknown, smart, friendless, sometimes rather rude boy, who'd be standing in the corner all alone if it wasn't for him.

"You know," John tries again cautiously, "the rugby lads are going to go laser tagging this afternoon. They asked me to come with them, but I thought we'd do something together. We could both go, you'd finally meet them. They're actually asking me all the time to bring you with me to practice." And with a nervous, faked chuckle he added silently, "They think we're a thing because of all the time we spend together."

Awkwardly shifting in his chair, he waited expectantly for an answer. They are meeting up so often after school, staying overnight, having nice conversations with the other's parents and in the beginning, John thought they'd stay best friends forever, but over the years John became more self-aware and noticed his affection for Sherlock wasn't platonic in any way. Hell, the first weeks he realised his slowly but steadily growing crush on his friend, he was way too confused, barely keeping it for himself. By now everything is just a dull, always remaining ache in his chest.

Most of the time he has it perfectly under control, but moments like this, when they were sat in the quiet library of their uni, sipping tea, reading books, were hard. Those were the moments when John got too soft and forgot about paying attention to not starring for too long.

Whilst Sherlock was lost in thoughts over some difficult-as-hell equation, he was able to catch a glimpse of him.

Slouched in a too small corner, never-ending legs always in a weird angle, all lanky with chocolate dark brown hair being the perfect contrast to his alabaster like skin and red, so very red cupid bow shaped lips.

But easily the best thing are those always colour changing eyes, looking like they knew everything going on, making him seem strangely wise and rebellious at the same time. How much he wished that he could just let his fingers run through silky curls and pull him closer and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. Pulling apart and getting lost in oh-so-deep blue eyes for all of eternity. He started to tremble at the simple thought of it, never –

"John, earth to John! Johon, come on!" Shaking himself he realised his knee had gone dead. Confused he looked down at it, only to see Sherlock's hand resting on it, presumably from the attempt of bringing him back into reality.

"Sorry, zoned out", he mumbled, still staring down at the long, pale fingers. He glanced up only to see Sherlock gaping down as well, a faint blush covering his sharp cheekbones.

"I'll come with you."

Not knowing why, he felt his cheeks widening into a full grin, alighting his features.

"Amazing! It's gonna be so much fun, I promise!" And, glancing at his watch he added," Okay, I have to get to Biology now, meet me at the arena at 4:30, I'll text you the address. Don't be late, see ya!"

Waving at Sherlock he stood up, grabbed his empty cup and went away, leaving a suddenly very silent Sherlock behind.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

"Sherlock, if you want to be on time we have to go now!" Mrs. Hudson shouted from the entrance area. "Yes, coming", came a grumbled answer from the teenage boy.

Climbing up the stairs, the elder woman knocked on Sherlock's door. "Come on Sherlock, we'll be late."

Opening the door, she saw him struggling to cover himself up with a dark blue sheet.

"What, you're still not finished?" Letting down the piece of fabric he stood there in only his underwear.

"Obviously Mrs. Hudson, do try to keep up."

"Oi, no need to snap at me. What's the problem?"

"I.. I don't think I'm going," came an almost to silent to hear answer.

He turned around to look down at his phone and send a text to John, already starting to make up some kind of cheap excuse. He couldn't possibly go. Of course, John would be there, but he didn't know what to think about the others. He can't remember why he even agreed to come in the first place.

Actually, he can.

The sun had shone down on John, making his blonde hair seem more golden than usual and giving him some kind of a halo. He had looked so hopeful, deep blue eyes being impossibly brighter, a small smile on his oh-so-soft, pink lips. He could have looked at his face for ages, blonde fringe a bit longer than he used to wear it, covering a bit of his tanned neck.

He was always so happy and, although Sherlock would never ever admit that he had this kind of thoughts, he was so fucking cute, with his stupid little nose and his ridiculously long eyelashes. He had looked so perfect in this precious moment, that Sherlock had to physically restrain himself from grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him in to snog him senseless on the spot, to just take and take and take, with absolutely no purpose of ever letting him go again.

He didn't even notice that his hand has made its way to John's knee on its own, though it seemed as John didn't really mind or, if he was being honest, noticed.

"You know, maybe John just wants his friends to get to know the boy he obviously can't stop talking about," Mrs. Hudson tried to calm him.

"You like him a lot, don't you?" Sherlock knew that there was no point in lying. This woman has known him for as long as he can remember. She was there for him when he came home crying, because the other children had been mean to him, had treated his wounds, listened to him. And so he just said, "Yes, I do. But I know that he'd never like me back in that way, let alone show me off to his friends. I'm quite certain of that actually. He's never really invited me to his rugby games or practice or whatever."

"Oh, shut up. Of course he likes you! He's asked you countless times, even I know that. Now go on, put on some clothes and brush your hair. Oh and hurry up, we really are running late." Ruffling through his curls she left the room and not even five minutes later they were sat in Mrs. Hudson's car on their way to laser tag.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

"Ey Jonny Boy, will your boyfriend show up anytime soon or have you been dumped?"

"Shut it, Greg, I'm sure he'll come in less than three minutes AND for the 100th time: He is not my boyfriend," John snapped back, trying to hold in a grin.

"Ohhh, but you wish he was, don't you," Mike teased him and steadily poked John's chest with his forefingers.

"I take your blushing as a yes," he smirked and started to laugh out loud as the blond boy's cheeks reddened more.

Grumbling back something unintelligible he looked up and saw a tall boy coming up to them. He let out a sigh of relief and pushed his friends away to half walk, half jog up to Sherlock.

"I thought you wouldn't make it."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't entirely sure whether to come or not," Sherlock replied quietly, looking away shyly.

John's grin widened, "Glad you made the right decision."

Awkward silence started to fill the air and John mumbled something about 'we should go to the team, they're already waiting' and Sherlock just nodded and they started to make their way to the rest of their group.

John scratched his neck uncomfortably and began to interduce everyone to Sherlock. Grinning like the idiots they are, they all threw knowing smiles to one another and Greg even came up to Sherlock, throwing one arm around both him and the other one around Mike.

"Hello there, nice to finally have a face to all the stories our captain tells us every time we meet. Now, I'm sorry to crash our little 'get to know each other', but we actually booked this thing and I'd very much like to team up now. I'll take Sherlock, Jonny Boy, your turn."

Glaring daggers at him, he turned around and glanced apologetically at Sherlock, who hesitantly made his way to Greg.

"I'll go with Sebastian then," he replied, receiving a high-five from his teammate.

Shortly after the grouping, they went inside, putting on their vests and guns.

The hall itself had two platforms with lots and lots of places to hide, the black light giving the whole area a mysterious aura.

Noticing, that Sherlock was about to hide from everyone, when Mike came up to him, taking the lanky boy with him to the others, John started to smile.

They all knew that Sherlock was new to this kind of stuff and he was really proud to have friends which don't mind to have him around, encouraging him to keep up and informing him about their plan.

A loud noise came out of the speakers and the game started. John narrowed his eyes and watched out for antagonistic players.

Only seeing the blue lights of his own team, he slowly crept up the stairs to shoot some of their enemies.

Not even five seconds later about three people he didn't even have time to recognise, came up to him and shot him before he was able to hide behind some thin walls.

Hearing the footsteps of someone, he quickly got up and ran as soundlessly as possible to duck under a window.

Slowly standing up and glancing around the corner, he was able to make out the silhouette of a tall, curly-haired boy, who was cautiously making his way up to him.

Not really wanting to die yet, John jumped out of his hideout, making Sherlock shriek and stumble back until his back was pressing up against a wall.

And at this moment, John didn't know what came over him. Maybe the thrill of the game, the adrenalin from the excitement, or just his general good mood caused by the whole situation. Probably a bit from everything. But Sherlock looked so fucking gorgeous in his tight, dark blue shirt that clung to his chest, his chocolate-brown curls looking like silk he was dying to finally touch, widened pupils making his galaxy eyes seem almost black and his pink lips stretched into a wide, confident smile.

"Two things," he said, "first, thank you very much for bringing me here, those guys are brilliant. Second, I'm very sorry, but I have no intentions of losing, sooo," and with a self-assured grin he started to shoot at him.

And no, this was really not on, Sherlock simply wouldn't look like a bloody model and fire at him with that damn cheeky smirk, behaving like a fucking peacock and John simply couldn't do anything but to give in and take two big steps until he was able to feel Sherlock's breath against his cheek.

Grabbing his shirt, he pulled the boy down and growled more than he said into Sherlock's ear, "You're welcome, glad you like it."

He could practically feel the poor boy gasping for air. "Second, I don't think you'd like to kill me, while I would very much like to kiss you until you can't think straight. Pun fully intended."

Sherlock's eyes having been transfixed on John's lips over the whole time, snapped up to meet ocean blue eyes and the softest, yet loudest plea slipt from the curly haired boy.

"John."

Within a blink of an eye, John grabbed Sherlock and slammed his lips on the other boy's. And it was so much more than he ever thought it could be. He's already kissed people, but not one person could have been compared to Sherlock.

He opened his mouth and tentatively slipped out his tongue to trace it over the bottom lip of this brilliant genius, silently asking for entrance.

Sherlock slowly opened his mouth and immediately the blond boy started to lick and taste and feel. He could feel Sherlock sighing into the kiss, only encouraging him more and more.

"John, oh my god John, please," Sherlock whispered and tried to close the remaining gap between them, pressing himself up against John, hips to chest to lips. Then he shyly started to grace the fingertips of his left hand up John's arm and into his short hair, gripping tightly, making John moan into his mouth.

"Christ, Sherlock," he groaned and pressed Sherlock up against the wall with his whole body weight.

John took Sherlock's other hand an fixed it with an iron grip over the taller boy's head. The sounds Sherlock made all the time were too damn delicious and John was this close, almost too close, to just fall down to his knees and make this impossible boy beg and writhe against him, bringing him a good piece closer to heaven.

'Slow it the fuck down, John. You know he's never done anything near this in his life!'

So instead of going a step further, he slowly lets go of him and stood there, with his forehead pressed up against Sherlock's, both boys panting heavily.

And with a dirty grin John took his gun, ripped himself off of Sherlock's trembling body and shot him right at the red point marked on his west that would end the game for him.

"Killing me," he laughed while turning his back to Sherlock, "not in a lifetime, mister."

And in the next moment, he was gone, leaving a trembling Sherlock with big eyes and a visible evidence of what John just did to him behind.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

*ding dong*

The bell of the housedoor ripped Sherlock out of his thoughts. Only yesterday John Watson has kissed him. Him. Out of the blue. He still couldn't really believe it, it came so unsuspected and was over so fast but it truly was perfect and he couldn't wait to do it again. Still, he kinda feared the next meeting with John. What were they now? John had always been there for him, they had been best friends for years by now and he simply couldn't stand the thought of not ever being with him.

"Sherlock, John's here for you!" Mrs. Hudson shouted from downstairs.

Apparently, his next meeting with John wouldn't be too long from now.

"Err yeah, can you send him upstairs maybe?" he called back.

And just 30 seconds later there was a knock on his door.

"Sherlock? Can I come in please?" came a shy voice from the other side of the door.

"Sure."

Slowly opening the door, John stepped into the room. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his muscled arms and a pair of dark blue jeans, looking like nothing special and still like the most put together.

Rubbing his neck he spoke up, "Hey, erm, look..well, I don't really know how to start this.. aahm...

"John, spit it out, what is it," Sherlock interrupted him.

"You're right, it's still difficult for me to say it so please don't disrupt me again.. I'm sorry, I truly am. I really shouldn't have kissed you back then, I had no right to do so and I wanted to apologise." And looking up he added, "But I really must tell you something. I..like you. A lot. It's no secrect after yesterday, but I wanted you to know for sure. And it's okay if you don't like me back, I don't expect you to anyway, but-

"John, what makes you think I didn't like you? If I recall correctly I kissed you back.

"First of all, can you please stop saying things like 'recall correctly', it just makes this conversation even weirder. Secondly, you never said anything! You never wanted to meet my friends, I did try to flirt with you and you never realised it. What else can I do?"

Silence started to fill their surrounding until Sherlock spoke up, his eyes never failing to blink for one moment.

"You..you like... me?

Only realsing what he just said, John started to back out of his friend's room.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I only came here to apologise, not to behave like some kind of creep that likes his best friend. Aaand I said it again. Listen, can you please forget both the kiss and what I just told you?"

Stepping in front of the door to stop John from leaving, Sherlock grabbed the boy's wrist and glared down on him.

"No, now you listen. You, John Watson, were my first kiss and I will not forget this. I may seem like a machine to others sometimes, but especially you know that I am not,-"

"Sherlock I know, but-"

"I asked you to listen, I'm not finished. I didn't know you tried to flirt with me because.. well, I don't see these kind of things. I just thought you were nice to me. And I didn't want to meet your friends, because I feared to say something I could never take back and that you might not want to talk to me afterwards. But.. I do like you. A lot. Please don't leave, I..."

"Oh Sherlock," John whispered and wrapped his arms around him. "Of course I'll stay. I'll stay as long as you'd want me to."

And John stayed, the whole night in fact.

And for so much longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah well, hope you enjoyed it. Like I said in the tags, this is my first attempt writing, but anyway. Hopefully see you soon with another work.  
> (Feel welcomed to leave a comment)


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